


we are the kings of suburbia

by sungyeowl



Series: lost in today and the past; lost in the future we had [7]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, also it has a sequel now, also who wouldn't like to find a lost puppy let's be real, i swear it's there though!, or a pre-thominewt, this is a blossoming thominewt actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungyeowl/pseuds/sungyeowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>“I think he’s lost,” Newt says, stroking the puppy and cooing mentally at how it seems to be cuddling to Minho.</p><p>“He’s so cute, though,” Minho mumbles, voice soft and brows furrowed and Newt almost feels guilty when he has to glare at him when Minho suggests, “Maybe… we could keep him?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are the kings of suburbia

**Author's Note:**

> _44\. puppy love_ asked here ^^. it was supposed to be Minewt, but i accidentally (NO NOT REALLY) Thominewt-ed, i guess?
> 
>  
> 
> you can find a sequel [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3538304)!

The cold bites at his skin but Newt doesn’t react until his phone actually stops responding to his numb fingers. He sighs exasperatedly and hides the device into his pocket, the thought of his forgotten gloves already haunting his mind.

It’s cold – bordering on freezing, actually – and yet here he is, occupying a secluded bench in the frosted park, freezing his arse off.

Burying his face more snugly into his thick scarf, Newt’s almost ready to murmur a well-repeated and overly used  _why did I agree to this,_  but then he spots Minho jogging towards him along the path, providing him the annoying answer.

The man grins widely and salutes as he runs past Newt’s bench – which is what he usually does, and Newt cannot be frustrated, his eyes automatically darting and fixing to Minho’s fit form, observing the working muscles under the (ridiculous, Newt muses and doesn’t refrain from stating this to Minho every time he wears it) tight thermal outfit.

“Damn it,” he murmurs eventually, annoyed with himself, because Minho in his stupid sports suits and covered in a layer of sweat is an equivalent of Newt getting distracted, and sometimes too hot, if he’s to be honest. The fact that he can’t jog along with Minho anymore doesn’t help, but Newt usually tries not to think about it too hard, instead focusing on Minho’s gracious moves and light steps.

But after another fifteen minutes pass, meaning Minho has been running for close to an our now, Newt decides to cut it out and take the boy home. So he stands up and when Minho appears waves at him, beckoning the guy to halt.

“What’s up?” Minho asks breathily when he’s finally next to him, bent over with hands propped on his knees. “D’ya want to go back already?”

“Yeah,” Newt replies, tugging at Minho’s shoulder and pulling him up. “I’m numb all over, let’s go back home. You’ve had enough, mate.”

“Okay,” Minho agrees and slings his arm over Newt’s shoulder, setting into a mild pace, careful of Newt’s bad leg and so his muscles don’t ache later, after the hardcore workout.

“You stink,” Newt comments, scrunching his nose, but he inches closer either way because Minho’s body is radiating off heat; so he just wraps and arm around his waist (and Minho doesn’t smell that bad at all, actually).

Minho just laughs quietly and strains his neck up to press a quick kiss to Newt’s temple.

The park Minho  likes to run in is the biggest in the city so it takes the two of them some time to cross it, and by the time they can finally see the entrance gate Newt is even more cold, the thought of a cup (or a bucket, preferably) of hot, steaming tea being the only one invading his mind.

And that’s probably why at first doesn’t notice why Minho stops abruptly.

“Wha-“ Newt starts, weirded out by the sudden halt, but his eyes follow Minho’s gaze, and. Oh. “Is that a puppy?”

“I think so,” Minho says, staring intensely at the little doggie roaming around a tree dangerously close to the  gate. “How did it get here?”

Newt doesn’t answer but lets go of Minho and follows him to the side of the path.

And that’s definitely a puppy. Alone in the park. In winter.

Minho squats down and looks at it, then reaches his hand out and clicks his tongue a few times. The puppy seems to have taken notice of the man, so Newt creeps carefully closer, standing behind Minho and waiting patiently, not wanting to scare the little thing off.

Finally the puppy comes closer and sniffs at Minho’s fingers, then lets Minho pet it.

“It’s a boy,” Minho says seriously and picks the puppy up, cradling it against his chest as he stands up and faces Newt. “I guess.”

Newt chuckles because Minho sounds as if he were talking about a human child, but then reaches out and strokes the dog’s head. Its fur is smooth and shiny, and although Newt suspects it’s a mongrel, the dog obviously had a caring owner, even despite the lack of any kind of a collar.

“I think he’s lost,” Newt says, stroking the puppy and cooing mentally at how it seems to be cuddling to Minho.

“He’s so cute, though,” Minho mumbles, voice soft and brows furrowed and Newt almost feels guilty when he has to glare at him when Minho suggests, “Maybe… we could keep him?”

“We should look for his owner,” Newt shakes his head seriously, even though he loves the idea of the little guy actually staying with them. “They should be here, it really looks like he escaped, or somethin’.”

“Well, they’re not really caring if they let him escape, ain’t they,” Minho grumbles, hugging the dog closer.

Newt sighs, because when Minho sets his mind on something and doesn’t get it – he can get really bitter, and Newt  _hates_  when Minho is bitter about anything. And, presumably, rescuing a puppy is a serious deal, okay.

But before Newt has a chance to start forming reasons for them to look for the puppy’s owner, a loud, panicked voice reaches them.

“You found him! Oh my god!”

They whip around and Newt stares at a guy sprinting their way, with something what looks suspiciously like a leash hanging from one of his hands.

“Thank god,” the guy pants out when he’s next to them, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “Man, this little rascal. Slipped right out of the collar and he’s so small – I didn’t notice. And then he was gone and I panicked. I’m so glad you found them.”

The guy seems really relieved – he’s around their age, Newt thinks, taller than Minho, with brown, mussed hair and moles dotting his face and neck. He’s smiling, eyes crinkling and all, and it really looks like he was scared about losing the puppy.

Which is what Minho doesn’t seem to care to notice, cuddling the puppy protectively and taking a half-step back. Newt has to restrain an urge to physically face-palm at his boyfriend’s attitude.

“Why did you let him escape,” Minho spits out indignantly, glaring at the boy. “How could you lose a puppy, man?”

“He’s really sly. And fast,” the guy shrugs, flexing his fingers nervously, apparently wanting to take his dog back. “And I- I really panicked, okay. Can I have him back, please?”

Minho doesn’t budge.

“Minho,” Newt urges warningly. “Give-“

“Thomas,” the guy provides helpfully, a small, thankful smile gracing his lips as he looks at Newt fleetingly.

“-right, give Thomas his dog back. Now.”

“Fine,” Minho whines grudgingly (Newt imagines him stomping his leg childishly), then hands the squirming puppy carefully over to the guy.

“Thanks, ugh,” Thomas sighs, hugging the dog and letting it lick his face. “Seriously, though.” He looks over at them and Newt notices that he’s really good-looking. Oh man. “I was scared, I’m  really glad you found him.  I seriously  _do_  take care of him, though, believe me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho snorts, waving his hand, the frown still knitting his brows together, but Newt knows it’s more of an act now when he steps closer and grabs Newt’ hand. “Invite us out for a cup of tea and I’ll consider believing you.”

“Really?” Thomas practically beams at them, the puppy forgotten for the moment in his arms and Newt has to drop his head down so Thomas doesn’t notice the knowing smile that threatens to appear on his face. “I mean, um, of course. I mean. I’d love to? But we’d have to drop this little guy off at my apartment first… are you okay with that? Jesus, I really hope you are-”

“We’re okay more than okay, Tommy,” Newt smirks at the perplexed boy, cocking his head to the side. “I don’t think our Minho here would be able to stand you and your puppy being cute at the same time.”

Newt doesn’t know what’s better – Thomas flushing madly at his words or Minho flushing even  _more_  but he doesn’t care, mind already racing, enthralled at the mere thought of something between Thomas and them that can grow to  _more_ than friendship.


End file.
